Number Four
by svs.1993
Summary: This story is about Dudley Dursley after Harry leaves Privet Drive in The Deathly Hallows and the insecurities he has that make him the stereotypical bully. He is a closeted gay character struggling with self-identity, fitting it, and being "normal."


**Number Four**

Back home at Number Four, Dudley immediately headed for the fridge. It had been a stressful past couple days with the people that Dad fondly referred to as "his lot" – Harry's lot. But Harry was gone, and maybe life would finally go back to normal. Now he really just wanted some food. He opened the fridge door.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath.

There was nothing there but half a jug of milk, some eggs, and a grapefruit. A fucking grapefruit.

"Mum!" he whined.

"What is it Diddy?"

She had been badly shaken by the whole ordeal. Dad was still outside making sure what's-his-name knew for certain never to come back to Privet Drive. Mum didn't seem to know what to do with herself.

"There's nothing to eat," said Dudley.

"Oh," she said, relieved at the opportunity to make herself useful and get away from the law-abiding neighbors she was sure were spying on the Dursleys at the very moment. "I'll just run to the store, what do you want?"

An hour later, Dudley sat in his room, full with two Big Macs and two large orders of fries, bored out of his mind. After all the chaos of the last few days and the tension that had been building up the whole summer, it seemed like there was nothing left to do. On the other hand, he was free. There was nothing to worry about, and no Harry to ruin the rest of his summer, his last summer of high school. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was going to miss having Harry around. His childhood punching bag, he had always been there to make Dudley feel powerful and big and intimidating.

He decided to call Piers. They met in the park on Magnolia Crescent, right next to the place where Dudley had nearly been killed by the dementoids a couple years ago. They each lit up a cigarette and smoked in silence for a couple minutes.

"I think I'm gonna quit," said Dudley.

"Quit what?" said Piers.

"This. Smoking. I need to if I want to stay in shape for wrestling."

"Fuck wrestling, mate! It's our senior year. It's time to slack off and get girls," said Piers.

"That's what you've been doing for the last three years," said Dudley.

"Yeah, well…so where's your cousin off to, then?" said Piers.

"I told you I have no idea," said Dudley.

"Well it's good he's gone at least. You don't have to worry about the little prat getting involved in your business," said Piers.

"He never really did," said Dudley. "Mostly kept to himself."

"You know, I always thought he was a bit bent," said Piers.

"No, I think he has a girlfriend. Some ginger. His best mate's sister."

"Fuck if I'd let you get with my sister."

Dudley laughed. He was actually surprised he knew so much about Harry's life. They never really talked, he'd just hear mention of things now and then. He couldn't believe Harry had a girlfriend. Harry, the scrawny little kid nobody in Surrey had ever liked. And here he was, with nobody but Piers Polkiss, smoking in a deserted park on a Friday night.

"Hey, look who it is," said Piers.

Dudley looked and saw Blake Mills, a kid in the same year as Dudley and Piers. He went to Stonewall High, but he lived in Little Whinging, so Dudley saw him quite often.

"Who does that little faggot think he is, walking around here at this time?" said Piers. "Hey, Mills!"

Dudley felt his stomach clench. He didn't want to deal with this, not right now. Not with everything that had been going on lately.

"Let's just leave it," said Dudley as they approached Mills, who now looked terrified beyond comprehension.

"Why?" Piers laughed.

"H-hi," stammered Mills as they reached him, trying unsuccessfully to hide the nervousness in his voice.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Piers.

"J-just coming home from a f-friend's."

"A 'friend's'?" said Dudley, joining in. "What were you doing there, taking it up the ass?"

Piers guffawed stupidly. Dudley felt quite pleased with himself. Mills' face grew red, and Dudley wasn't sure if it was in anger or embarrassment. He took a deep breath.

"You wish," he said.

"What was that?"

"You wish," he repeated calmly, then added, "you wish it was you."

Slam. Dudley's fist had made contact with Mills' nose. Piers joined in too. And with every punch he knew. Knew he was doing it to himself. Punishing the stupid queer for being brave enough to say all the things he couldn't. He shouldn't be the brave one, this skinny little outcast with his stupid hair and his stupid glasses. He could just stand there and take it, knowing that once the cuts and black eyes healed, he knew who he was. He was Blake Mills: queer. And who was Dudley? He couldn't be that. He couldn't even think the word "gay" without wincing. He was a Dursley, which meant he was normal. What would Dad say? He was supposed to be a man. A _man_. Not this. No.

A couple hours later Dudley was in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking. He turned his head to look at the clock. It was past midnight. It had taken some time to calm down after his run-in with Mills. He hated Piers for always starting something with that kid whenever they were together. But Piers didn't know. Piers had no idea. Dudley hated that he couldn't tell anyone. Not his parents. Not anyone at school. Not his best friend. He was scared. And it wasn't the kind of scared he felt when that giant made a pig's tail grow out of his ass, or when he almost got kicked off the team because his grades were so low. He was afraid of the truth, and he hated himself for it. For being a coward and being what he was.

He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind. If he just pretended it wasn't real, then maybe it would go away. But he'd lived with Harry Potter long enough to know that wouldn't work. He had to actually do something to change it. He grabbed his phone and dialed quickly. It rang several times before someone finally picked up.

"Hello?" a girl's voice shouted loudly.

Dudley heard music blasting from the other end.

_Of course_, he thought. _She's having a party. It's Friday night._

"Hey," he said, trying to sound as casual and confident as possible. "It's Dudley."

"Oh, hi! Let me just go outside. It's really loud in here."

A few minutes later she was back.

"So what are you calling about?" she asked.

"I think we should go to the movies tomorrow night. Just us."

Silence.

"Dudley, are you asking me out on a date?"

Dudley laughed, then cleared his throat quickly.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, it's kind of obvious that we should be together."

She giggled in that stupid girly way of hers. He was going to get so much shit for this from Piers. But she was the most attractive girl both of them knew, and he could see himself with her. Well, anyone could, but that was beside the point. His heart was hammering in anticipation. He needed her to say yes and simultaneously knew it wasn't going to happen.

"Okay."

His jaw dropped. He definitely wasn't expecting that. Thank God she couldn't see him.

"Great," he said.

She giggled again. "Pick me up at my place at eight?"

"Yeah, sure, see you then," he said quickly.

"Bye!" she said.

He heard the click as she hung up the phone. He couldn't believe his luck. This was good. This was happening. He didn't have to worry about his problem. This was perfectly normal, and nobody could question him or get suspicious about anything. And she was Effie Bennet. She was beautiful and popular and everything he needed. He lay back down on his bed, smiling to himself. Everything was going to be okay.

_Twenty Years Later_

Dudley Dursley and his wife looked proudly at their youngest son as he played with his new toy fire truck. He zoomed it around the living room and then decided it would be fun to ram it repeatedly into the wall. The boy laughed as he made dents in the freshly painted drywall.

"Sweet tums!" cried Mrs. Dursley with a mixture of affection and exasperation.

"Let him be," chuckled Mr. Dursley, "The little tyke just has a lot of energy, doesn't he?"

"Boys will be boys, I suppose," sighed Mrs. Dursley.

"He just needs to be normal, like all the other kids," said Mr. Dursley.

For Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.


End file.
